SmackDown: MadMike's Revenge!

Round 2, Hermaphrodeity: The Bones of War - @NimrodKirkpatrick

The Bones of War

by NimrodKirkpatrick

Night. Always a time to be alive. The stars twinkling. The crickets chirping. Every man, woman and child tucked away in bed, fast asleep.

The perfect time to work the boneyards.

She had a system. It was efficient. Perfect, really. Because no one expected a woman to go pilfering through piles of bones. A man, maybe—men were sick; it was expected of them. But women? No. And if they caught her, she could easily play all innocent. Bat her eyelashes and shoot them a smile. It always worked. She'd done it before. She'd do it again.

Her bag was full of femurs, skulls, shoulder blades. And all kinds of little ones, too: full toes and fingers, individual knuckles.

If someone were to take a peek inside they'd be horrified by what they saw. Because there was something else in there. Something nobody would want to see.

And she'd have to take care of them if they caught on. She'd done that before, too.

She was digging out a sweet-looking pelvis when a spotlight lit her up. She hissed through her teeth and turned to see someone headed her way—couldn't tell much, because the light had them backlit. They were just a shadow.

She realized what had happened here. She'd gotten too cocky. "Fuck you, Mad Mike Marsbergen," she muttered to herself and prepared for war.

***

She flung the bag as high into the air as she could and when it reached the highest point of its ascent she cricked her neck, breathed deeply and pushed the button upon the device in her pocket which resulted in a localised electrical storm that encompassed both her and the bag itself.

She allowed her body to go limp and the storm carried her up whilst simultaneously it brought the bag down to meet her, and she smiled.

Then there was an explosion.

When the smoke and electrically induced heat and light dissipated she was all that remained. But she was different. Better.

Still unable to see Mad Mike Marsbergen clearly, such was the brightness of the spotlight, she grinned out from beneath the half-skull she wore as a mask. Her eyes red, she attempted to lessen the effect of the spotlight.

She saw other shadows in the light, too. Silhouettes that sought to end her but that was not going to happen, not on this day.

As fully-armoured as she was ever going to be with only select areas of flesh showing she dropped to a knee and punched the ground with her fist, all the while keeping her gaze transfixed upon her incoming aggressor.

Rivulets of electrical energy rippled through the ground from her fist and at breakneck speed, those ripples and rivulets spread through and explored the boneyard.

"Do you think I fear your power, Yasmine?"

There was no doubt about it, the voice most definitely belonged to Mad Mike Marsbergen. She was certain of it, even if she still could not see him clearly.

"I built you, Yasmine. You only have that power because I willed it and whilst I cannot remove it you cannot use your power to cause me harm. It is not in your programming."

"I'm not a damn machine." She was angry at the insinuation but then again, it was hardly the first time he had suggested such a thing. "I'm flesh and bone same as you. More than that. It's your flesh, your bone... The very DNA that courses through every fibre of your being runs through me, my every atom and cell."